Matryoshka
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: In 1995, a 15 year old boy goes missing from his home. In 2001, two brothers are forced onto the path of discovering why.
1. Chapter 1

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**1.  
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It's become something of a ritual since they've both moved out so far away from home. With Matthew attending the local University, and Alfred working what he can to pay for rent and his own lifestyle, the Jones twins make it a point to enjoy breakfast together at a favorite diner for the both of them every Friday morning. Even if they had seen or spoken to each other the day before, without fail, Matthew will pick Alfred up from his apartment and away they would go.

This week, after their meal and on their way back to Alfred's place, they had both spotted a large sign on the corner of an intersection announcing an estate sale. With Matthew's classes and Alfred's next shift not starting for another couple of hours, they both agreed to check it out and see if there would be anything worth buying.

It's been entertaining, at least.

"What d'you think? Can I pull it off?"

Matthew turns away from the stack of books piled high on the shelves above the bookcase with a paper reading 'SOLD' taped to the front. What he sees is his brother in front of the opened closet wearing a jacket that is clearly too small for him if the way he struggles to move his arms about is anything to go by.

"David Banner," Matthew deadpans, "I just slashed your tires."

All at once, Alfred drops his arms and rolls his eyes.

"You're a fucking idiot," he says and struggles out of the jacket.

"Says the Strong Man wrestling with two yards of denim."

"I need a new jacket."

"And that's fine and all, but how 'bout lookin' somewhere where the size options are something other than a kid's small?"

"It says it's a large."

Matthew only laughs. His attention goes back to the books and starts picking the ones he wants.

"Anyway, isn't it kinda weird or something?" he asks.

"Why would it be weird?"

"'Cause, y'know, wearing a dead kid's clothes and all that."

"Not dead," Alfred corrects and hangs the jacket back up. He starts to go through the clothes once more, the small clinking of wire hangers accompany his words. "Just missing."

"Missing since '95, that kid's dead."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Matt, what did the Internet do to you?"

Matthew rolls his eyes this time. "Ditch your friends once to spend a Saturday on-line and everyone thinks you're an Internet junkie."

"I don't know, man, I mean, every time I try to call I get a busy signal. Something's tying up your phone."

"Maybe I got a girlfriend."

Alfred laughs.

"Oh, fuck off."

Alfred only laughs harder, right up until he gives up his search through the leftovers still hanging inside the closet. "All of this stuff reminds me of what we used to wear in middle school."

"Again, kid went missing in '95. At least that's what the chick managing the cash box said."

"And here you are pillaging through his stuff."

"You're the one that wanted to wear his clo- oh, hey. Come check this out."

Alfred comes to his brother's side in only a few short steps. What Matthew holds in his hand is a single photo that shows the simple image of an older man, an older woman, and a young boy somewhere between the age of thirteen or fourteen with a mess of dark blond hair and large blue eyes. The entire family is wearing matching red sweaters with a large green Christmas tree on the front of each one. They all show the same shy smile and at the bottom in white scripted font reads: _Merry Christmas from The Galante Family, 1994._

"Where'd you find this?" Alfred asks.

"It was in one of the books. I was just flipping through the pages and it fell out."

"Hmm..."

Neither twin is able to word what goes through their mind at the moment. Even so, they both think the same thing. 1994, one year before the disappearance of the young teen in front of them when they themselves must have been no older than twelve. How odd, to think that they were living so carelessly and happily in the days of their own youth when this boy had either run away or had been taken, kidnapped, maybe even murdered. While they sat down to family dinners and celebrated birthdays and holidays, how often did his parents stay up on sleepless nights and wonder about their missing son?

"What d'you think happened to him?" Alfred asks.

"I don't know," says Matthew. He carefully places the photo back on the shelf near some figurines and small knick-knacks. "I don't wanna take that with me. Doesn't feel right."

"But you'll take his books."

"Hey, these aren't personal," Matthew says as he loads up his arms with his choices. "This is just like going to a used bookstore."

"Whatever you say, bro."

Alfred is just about ready to leave the room. They had already gone through the rest of the house, had already fought with the crows fathered picking through the remains of a familial home that has some six years after a tragedy. They way he figures, they're just about done here, they should just go back to the front of the house and buy the books Matthew wants.

He chances a look back at the photo, morbid curiosity he supposes. When he does, something else catches his eye. It's a little big, which is probably the reason he noticed it. A plump and curvaceous wooden knick-knack painted to look like a person with very pale hair, some lovely shaped eyes colored purple, and a small smile. A scarf is painted around its neck, it falls down the length of a tan coat and is only separated by a line cut through the middle.

Alfred picks it up and immediately pulls it apart. What he finds is another doll, a girl this time with long pale hair, wearing a ribbon, and a fierce looking scowl.

"How cool!" he says. "A little creepy, but still pretty cool."

He elbows his brother as they both leave the room.

"What does mom call these things?" he asks. "Babushkas or something?"

"I think they're just called nesting dolls, but yeah. Yeah, she would call them that."

"I'm gonna get it for her. Easy Christmas shopping."

Matthew shakes his head. "Can't believe you're the favorite."

"I know, right? I'm just naturally awesome or something."

"That's the part where you're supposed to deny it."

"Why deny the truth?"

"Dear Lord, give me strength. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

They navigate their way back to the front door easily. Most of the people coming to the sale are in the backyard or dining room, looking through the left over pickings. The master bedroom and office having already been cleared, the only room left untouched had been the boy's room. And for understandable reasons, not many had gone there. They both pay without much trouble and are sitting Matthew's car in no time at all.

"Where am I dropping you off?" he asks.

"My place, I guess," says Alfred. He takes a quick glance at his watch and notices that it's close to his shift. "I gotta get my bike soon, unless you feel like picking me up from work after class?"

"My last class gets out at nine today."

"Wanna hang around the place for an extra hour after closing?"

"Can't say I want to."

"You're such a dick."

After Matthew leaves him in front of his apartment complex, Alfred makes his way to his own tiny home. It takes him all of ten minutes, and even less time to set down the stack of dolls he's bough on the nearest surface and take up his bike. There's no time to further inspect the rest of the dolls that must be inside, having to get himself to work will take a little longer and he really should leave now.

He's back out the door, and goes on with his day.

By the time he comes back home, it's late into the night. He's exhausted and ready to sleep, but doesn't have the strength to make it to his bed. Instead, he falls onto the sofa near the front door, barely able to toe off his shoes. He falls asleep in seconds.

Though it's more of a cat nap, because only some two hours later, Alfred stirs back awake. The VCR above his television blinks _12:00_ and is no use to him as far as figuring out how late it is. He's never been able to figure out how to program the damn thing and frankly doesn't care enough to ever. If anything, it at least gives off a little light that shows the safe way to his bedroom, which is where he figures he should actually be if he wants any real rest. So with that in mind, he sits up and rubs at his eyes from beneath his glasses.

Even with the small glow of light the room is still too dark, and he is still too groggy, so he isn't able to notice how each of the nesting dolls has been removed from the inside of the largest one, and each one stands separate from one another in a neat circle on the coffee table in front of him.

He gets up from the sofa, stumbles around the living room with heavy footsteps and finally makes it to his bedroom door. He doesn't hear the soft sobs at first. It isn't until he swings the door open, they crying grows louder, and he blinks through blurred vision and smudged glasses to see the slight figure of a young teen with messy dark blond hair sitting on the edge of his bed.

He's huddled into himself, his arms covered in a loose jacket and wrapped around his torso as if he was comforting himself as his back stutters in a rise and fall with each small cry. Eventually, the figure looks up at Alfred, large watery blue eyes stare at him as fat teardrops roll down his cheeks.

"I want to go home," he cries. "I want to see my mom and dad. I wanna go home!"

The whole time, Alfred is rooted to the spot. He doesn't even start until a piercing wail follows his words. He ends up slamming the door shut, breathing heavily to the beat of his pounding heart, and can honestly say that he has never been more terrified in all of his life.

Because that was a ghost, right? That was definitely a ghost, how could it have been anything other, he's seen the movies, read everything about them when he went through his Blair Witch phase, that was definitely a ghost!

He slowly backs away from the door, walks backwards until there's some small space in between it and him. It feels like it takes forever and an age for him to calm down, and at least another few for him to realize that there is no longer any crying. Everything is quiet.

Despite his instinct to keep away, Alfred approaches the door again. His hand is paused on the door knob and he holds his breath as he swings it open once more.

The room is dim, the bed a mess. Clothes are everywhere and there's a waste basket overflowing with trash. But it is empty, there is no one else there.

The breath he's held comes out in one big relieved sigh and he sags against the door frame. There is nothing here. There is nothing here. There is nothing... here.

So what was that? Was he still half-dreaming? It was a busy day and he'd been exhausted so... like, sleep walking? He'll have to ask Matthew about it later then. It probably had a lot to do with all that talk about the kid missing at the estate sale. Yeah, it even looked a little like him from the picture, it must have just come out of nowhere from his imagination or something. Yeah, that must be it...

He tells himself all of this over and over again. He has to in order to believe it. When he feels he's finally calmed and okay, Alfred closes the door.

He decides to fall back asleep on the couch.

**xxx**

Disclaimer: It's true, there's room for you.

-i love halloween.

-three part deal, next chapter comes out the 13th.

-stay shiny, stay lovely, thanks for reading. xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

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"It's times like this I wished we still lived together."

Alfred stretches out entirely on his back on top of Matthew's sofa. He'd plan to come over first thing after the end of his mid-morning shift and was not surprised when he received a busy signal when he received a busy signal when he tried to call. Still, all it meant was that his brother is at home and there was no problem in showing up at his door.

"We would have been living together," Matthew calls out to him from the kitchen. "If you had just come out with me when I first left home instead of following me out here without telling anyone."

"I'm a romantic," says Alfred. He rolls off of the sofa and onto the floor with a thud. "All I thought about was how amazing our reunion was going to be. We were gonna take off into an awesome hug, fireworks were gonna go off, a panda was gonna knock out a penguin-"

"That's not romantic anymore, that's the dream you had when we were five."

"No," Alfred argues and strolls right towards the kitchen. "The dream I had when we were five was us in the school bus when the dinosaurs attacked."

"Whichever. It's still a dream."

The kitchen isn't large enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. Though Alfred is content to lean against the door frame and watch his brother prepare their dinner.

"And honestly," Matthew continues, "I think what happened to you last night was a dream."

"You think?"

"Do you really want it to be a ghost?"

"No."

"Well then there you go. If you don't believe something's there, then there's nothing there to hurt you."

Alfred looks less than impressed with this summation. "Yeah, okay… but what if there's an ax-murderer in your back seat? Just cos you don't believe there can't be one there doesn't rule out the possibility of there ever being one."

Matthew groans and tosses some diced veggies into a sauté pan. "Do you want the damn ghost to be there or what?"

"No!"

"Alright then, Schrodinger, shut the fuck up."

Alfred sighs heavily and sags against the frame. It calls Matthew's attention and as his twin looks so helpless and haggard by last night's events, he sighs to himself.

"Okay," he says. "Do you wanna know what I think? Like, honestly?"

This perks Alfred up. He straightens out and gives Matthew his full attention.

"Honestly," Matthew says, "I think you were exhausted from work, still a bit obsessed with the whole Blair Witch thing, and still thinking about the kid that went missing. You haven't had any problems before, so why now? It was just a dream, Alfred."

With that, Matthew turns back to the stove and fives Alfred something to think about. It's true that since the Blair Witch phenomenon he has had this inclination for the supernatural. And it's true, that his shift had been particularly extra tiring. He doesn't remember how many spilled drinks he cleaned, and then there was the _toddler incident_. Honestly, some parents are worse than their kids…

While Alfred loses himself in the memory of an awful work day, Matthew finishes off their meal. He only bothers to disrupt Alfred's reminiscing when their plates are served and ready to be eaten. Their dinner goes by with the two of them in front of the TV while they eat. All conversation of ghosts and the like are not brought up again. By the time Alfred leaved and bikes his way back home, he's nearly forgotten all about last night.

So it takes him by surprise when he enters his apartment when he enters his apartment and an icy gust comes at him in greeting. His breath turns into white clouds of cold and while swearing under his breath, Alfred makes his way to the thermostat. What he sees is remarkable; it's a normal temperature of 70 degrees in this small one-bedroom apartment, and he's left with no option other than to believe that it's broken. There's just no way.

He slaps his hand against it, huffs out another cold breath of air and turns around sharply.

And is greeted with the sight of a simple looking boy with glasses and a narrow face. His expression is hidden by the dark blond hair falling over his eyes and for the longest time he remains bent over in his seat. Alfred is once again frozen in fear and is able to do nothing more than watch as this other ghostly apparition toys with a small figure on his coffee table.

It's then that he realizes the little wooden dolls are separated from one another, placed in a circle and he's able to notice just how many of them there are. It seems intimidating for some reason. Alfred doesn't know, but he does not ignore the instinct to back away. His footsteps are slow and it isn't until he hits up against the wall that the other says something to him.

"He's watching you," he says, and he finally raises his head to look at Alfred. "He's already watching you. I would be worried, if I were in your place."

Alfred feels a lump in his throat that he can't quite speak around. His eyes start to burn at the edges and he's forced to close them before he actually starts crying.

"Who-who are you?" he manages to ask, but he receives no reply.

When he does open his eyes again, he's entirely alone.

There's no hesitation, Alfred races for his telephone and dials Mathew's number. There's no describing the joy he feels when it actually rings for once.

"'_Lo?"_ comes his brother's voice from the other line and again, Alfred dives straight into the conversation.

"You need to get over here, right now! I swear to god, Matt, I can't fuckin' do this alone, I need you to come over here. Like, right now!"

"_What the- Alfred?"_

"Yes! Matthew, pleeaaase, get over here!"

"_Alright, calm down. I'll be over there soon."_

There's no goodbyes, Alfred drops the call first and hangs up without another word.

This is too weird for him, this is just too damn weird. He had never seen this guy before so what excuse can be made for this a second time? He doesn't know, and he certainly doesn't know what to do. Alfred swipes at his face with his hands and groans. When he finally feels somewhat composed, he finds that the temperature is slowly returning to normal and his head is a little clearer. It's then that he notices the dolls again, and desperate for anything likely to explain this mess, he approaches them.

He doesn't remember placing them like this. He honestly can't even say he bothered to look at each one which… is actually a lot of them. Nine in total, and that doesn't seem right. It just seems like there is too many, even to him, a person with no previous encounter with nesting dolls.

Alfred avoids the couch. Instead, he crouches in front of the table and turns each one towards him, from largest to smallest. They all differ from one another, though the smaller they get, the more modern the look in both paint and detail. He reaches the second smallest and when he turns it towards him, he feels a creeping sense of dread settle at the bottom of his stomach.

Dark blond hair that reaches his eyes in perfectly leveled bangs, small mouth set in a stern little line, and green eyes he now recognizes peering at him from behind painted glasses.

"No fuckin' way," he mutters to himself and reaches for the last.

His heart nearly stops when he see it for the first time.

The little doll is painted wearing a dusty red jacket, has a mop of messy blond hair, and light blue eyes with tears painted right at the corners. His mouth is caught in mid-wail, and it's more of a stab of grief that hits him rather fear.

What the hell is this? He doesn't know what kind of explanation is behind this, but he does know that this is far beyond coincidental. He can only hope when Matthew shows up they can figure to out together.

Unfortunately, when Matthew does show up, he has no idea of his own.

"This is trippy," he says.

"No shit."

"Shut up."

Alfred hasn't moved the dolls since he first inspected them. They all stand in the exact same position, now only disturbed as Matthew carefully lifts up the smallest one to get a closer look.

"It does kind of look like the kid," he says.

"Yes, 'cause I'm pretty sure that is the kid!"

"Okay, I get this is weird and everything but you're really gonna have to calm down."

"Yeah you can say that 'cause you're not the one who saw this shit. Twice!"

Matthew doesn't reply. Instead, he sets the doll down and looks them all over.

"Which one's the other one that you saw?" he asks.

"That one," says Alfred and points to the second smallest. "The one with the 80's mop top."

Just like the last one, Matthew lifts it up and brings it close.

"If… If the little one is the missing kid, or has to do with the ghost you saw, then wouldn't that mean this whoever this guy is.. is missing too?"

"So how're we supposed to find out who he is?"

"Maybe we can find something on the Internet? Old news articles or something?"

Alfred plucks the figure out from Matthew's fingers. He takes a good look at the clothing; collared shirt under a hideous sweater with bright colors and too many shapes. It isn't just his hair that is an 80's throwback.

"Would we be able to fine anything?"

"For the kid, maybe. For this guy… I dunno. Depends on when he went missing I guess. Might be able to, but if anything we'll just check out if the library here has like, a newspaper archive or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

It goes quiet.

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Um… yeah. In the morning. I'm off at the twelve. What about you?"

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm free all day.

"So.. we start when I get off then?"

"Yeah. The sooner the better."

Having his brother helping him out has Alfred feel tremendously better. Still…

"Will…" he starts off and already Matthew looks at him with some concern. "Will you stay here tonight?"

There's no hesitation, although Matthew does kind of laugh. "Yes, sure."

Alfred immediately says in relief. "Oh thank god, I was gonna beg to stay with you if you said no."

"You're so stupid," Matthew laughs and a yawn follows. "Although, hey, it may just be because I'm really just too tired to leave."

"You're such an asshole… You gonna need some clothes to change in to?"

"If you got any."

"I should. C'mon, let's see what I got."

He sets the little doll down and ushers Matthew into the bedroom with him. Things start to feel normal again, and as they lays to sleep, it's as if this is just another sleep over for them. Just another night, without anything out of the ordinary occurring.

Of course, for Alfred it's easier as he's more prone to move on as things occur. Matthew on the other hand, is still very aware of what's been happening. Which is probably why, when being the first to wake up the next morning, he is not completely caught off guard by who he finds sitting at the bar next to Alfred's kitchen.

She's a fairly young woman, with long brown hair and flowers woven into it for decoration on one side. She wears a crocheted crop top and high-waist bell bottom jeans. She doesn't look at him. She doesn't acknowledge him at all.

"I just wanted to find him," she says and is barely loud enough for Matthew to hear. "I just wanted to be a good friend."

Matthew swears under his breath and races back into the bedroom. He calls out for Alfred to wake up, even half-drags him out of bed and into the living room. Though by the time he's done all that, she's already gone.

"What?" Alfred is asking, only half-awake and near blind without his glasses on. "What's happening? Matthew?"

Matthew can only sigh and fall against the wall.

"I think things just got a little more complicated."

**xxx**

-almost didn't make it ;A;


	3. Chapter 3

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Matthew decides to meet Alfred at his work place when it comes close to the end of his shift. Alfred doesn't mind; today is no that busy and the café is empty enough that he can even take his last break while sitting at his brother's table.

"So I thought we should make a list of things that we know," Matthew says and pulls out a spiral notebook from the backpack he's brought. "Which isn't really much-"

"No shit."

"Way to keep positive."

"I try."

"But yeah, anyway-"

"Well…."

Again, Alfred interrupts, but he also trails off. He isn't quite sure what he can say. He hadn't been pessimistic in agreeing to not knowing much. It is the truth.

"The little dolls I picked up," he says. "I'm pretty sure they have something to do with it. That seems pretty obvious."

Matthew jots his words down. He pauses for a brief moment and taps the point of his pen against the paper.

"Do you think that maybe you should just get rid of the dolls?" he asks. "Don't you think that would stop everything?"

"See, I thought about that, but honestly? I dunno. 'Cos like when you get down to it this is a classic horror movie scenario. And what happens when things are just tossed aside like that would help anything?"

"What?"

Alfred slams his hand on the table. "Shit gets worse! The only way to stop the mystery is to solve the mystery."

"And this mystery is the missing people?"

"I guess. I mean, the kid we know for sure is a missing person. The other dude, I don't have idea who he was."

"Same with the girl. But hey, she did say something about finding someone though. Or wanting to find someone-"

"The kid!"

Matthew waves away Alfred's enthusiastic reply. "Nah, couldn't be the kid. She was dressed totally retro not just like, ten years ago vintage. Do you remember the pictures dad showed us of mom's Woodstock phase?"

"So she was a hippie?"

"Well…. yeah I guess so."

"So who could she be looking for?"

Matthew shrugs. "Who's the next doll that went missing?"

"You think?"

"Maybe? There may be a chance we'll find out when we go looking."

"True that." Alfred pauses their conversation to check his watch. "Alright I'm back on the clock. I got like a half hour left then we can go. You cool with waiting for me? You want anything to eat or anything?"

"I'm good. I'm just gonna write stuff down and probably give up somewhere to study."

"You're such a nerd," Alfred teases but Matthew only laughs as he's left alone at the table.

'When Alfred does get off from his shift, he changes from his work clothes in the bathroom and from there, they both head on to the library. It's the first time Alfred's set foot in the city library honestly. Without reason to do so, it's unsurprising, but Matthew appears to be familiar. Apparently he's spent some time here despite having access to the library on campus.

Naturally, he follows Matthew around as they look for what could be city archives holding newspapers or micro film, anything that may help them in their search for the people that have been showing themselves. In the end, Alfred elects to have the librarian help them, and after a few minutes of waiting in line are directed to a basement where everything is that they need.

Both brothers find themselves huddled over one of the large leather bound books filled with pages and pages of yellowed newspaper. Looking through them all, they had found those belonging to the mid-90's and it takes both of them keeping a sharp eye to isolate the actual year they're looking for.

They do find it, and what they find Matthew records as Alfred reads out every bit of information he can find.

His name is Raivis Galante, and he has been missing since the 15th of June in 1995 at age 15. The article he reads describes him as a quiet, hard-working student, one that mostly kept to himself and was liked well enough by his class. He had gone missing overnight from his home, no signs of forced entry on any of the doors or windows. There had been speculation of him leaving the house on his own, and as the articles begin to lessen and lessen, the more it seem as if the neighborhood began to believe that what had come to happen.

"So they just quit looking for him?" Alfred asks and is honestly a little disturbed with the result.

"It's not unusual," Matthew says while writing all of this down. "C'mon, how many missing kids are there every year? How many actually are found? And alive at that?"

He's not wrong, but it still leaves a sour taste in Alfred's mouth. They exhaust what they've found on Raivis, what comes next is the ghost that showed himself to Alfred the night after.

"He said something weird though," he tells Matthew. "Like, okay so Raivis was crying about his parents, and the girl you said was looking for someone, but he wasn't talking about any of that."

"What did he say?"

"I don't really remember. Something about someone else though. Like someone was watching, or something like that. I dunno, I was just thinking about calling you as soon as possible."

Matthew gives him a steady stare and quickly asks for him to describe the man. Alfred does so, as well as the clothes he had been wearing as that really is the only clue they have to finding out when it was _he_ went missing. For all they search though, they find nothing in the newspapers. The library only keeps so many and in the end they're destined for cramming themselves together to view the microfilm.

Matthew takes control in the speed they search, leaving Alfred to warn him if they pass by important information.

"Wait!" Alfred shouts. "Right there, go back!"

Matthew does and Alfred taps the screen.

"There he is, that's him!"

The date is marked April 23rd 1983, and on the bottom half of the front page is a small portrait of the man Alfred had seen. His name is Eduard von Bock, a 21 year-old college student who had gone missing from campus, the very same one Matthew now attends. He had been well known in his major as one that would lead through the revolution of technological advancements, and his disappearance did not go by unnoticed.

"What would they have in common?" Matthew asks.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, what do these two have in common that would have them both involved in the same situation?"

"Um, the dolls. I'm pretty sure we went over this."

"Yes, I know the dolls, but _how_? How did they get them Alfred? Eduard von Bock disappears from his college dorm room in 1983 that is twelve years before Raivis Galante goes missing from his bedroom in 1995. How did he get the dolls?"

Alfred can't answer that. He just doesn't know.

"In any case, we should find out where they come from," Matthew says and continues to scan back through the years after finishing his notes.

"I'll take over now," Alfred says, and their positions reverse. "Was the girl you say dressed like more 70's or more 60's?"

"I don't know much about the time period to be honest."

"C'mon Mr. Music Major, think about when the hippie shit was big. When would that have been?"

"Definitely before disco hit. 60's."

"Alright then, flashback to the 60's."

Just in case though, Alfred did keep a steady pace that could have both of them notice a missing person's article. There had been a few but none of them being the girl they were looking for. When they do find her, they're surprised to see that she's not alone.

There are two pictures, side by side, one of the girl Matthew recognizes smiling at the camera and another young man with a slight pomp style to his hair staring at the camera with a slight frown. They can only see his white collared shirt and suspenders in the picture.

"_July 28__th__ 1965, 17 year-old Elizabeth Hedervary reported missing after spending the night with friends in a local commune_," Matthew reads. "_Family is frantically searching for their daughter and believe that her disappearance is tied with that of 17 year-old Gilbert Beilschmidt, gone missing just one month prior._"

Both twins go quiet. Both simply stare at the screen.

"So that's who she was looking for then," Matthew says.

"Has to be."

"So he's gonna be next?"

"Yeah… most likely."

They do go back one month previous, and like before, Matthew writes down everything relevant to Gilbert Beilschmidt. Though after doing this, they both realize that they're at a loss of what to do now. Neither one of them had really taken a good look at the dolls in Alfred's apartment. In any case, though it hasn't seemed like so much time has passed, they've been trapped in the library's basement for hours already. They both decide to call it a day.

Matthew invites Alfred to his place. He turns down the invitation, he needs to look at the dolls himself after all.

"I might even try checking out the internet by myself or something," Alfred says. "See what all the hub's about that's got you plugged in 24/7."

"Keep talking, I'll make you walk home."

Alfred's only reply is to laugh, but he drops the subject and they both clean up their mess and head out. When Matthew does drop him off at home, he asks Alfred if he wants the notebook to write things down in. That he takes, and with a final goodbye heads for his apartment.

Just like before, the moment Alfred walks into his apartment the temperature is cold enough for him to feel as if he's just walked into a freezer. But he does know what to expect, so with that at least he's not as nervous or apprehensive about the whole thing. Still… it does take him some time to build up the courage to actually step inside.

He looks towards his living room, expecting the next ghost to show himself there, but finds nothing. He closes the door behind him and drops his backpack to the floor. He turns towards the door to his bedroom and jumps. Standing there is Gilbert Beilschmidt in his collared shirt, suspenders, and rolled slacks. He stands with his arms crossed across his chest and sad eyes pointed at him.

"I don't know if you've seen her yet," he says and his voice is small. "But if you haven't, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I am so sorry."

Any kind of fear just melts away from him. Instead, a pang of sadness overwhelms him, and Alfred feels even more inclined to help.

"I.. I already saw her," Alfred stutters out. "Elizabeth. I already saw her. She's already gone."

Heartbreak. That's the only way he can describe the look that over takes the teen in front of him.

"Right, yeah," he says. "Figures."

"What's happening?" Alfred rushes out to ask. "What happened to both of you?"

All of a sudden it's as if a sense of true urgency over takes him. Gilbert throws his arms down to his sides and stares Alfred down.

"He picks and chooses ya know," he tells him. "It didn't have to be me. They weren't even mine!"

"Who picks and chooses?" Alfred asks. "Who are you talking about? What's happening?"

Gilbert opens his mouth to reply, but he's unable to say anything. Right in front of him, Gilbert is dragged from the back of his shirt by an unseen force. He's taken into Alfred's bedroom and the door slams shut behind him. Alfred chases after him immediately. He struggles with the doorknob and he even slams his body against the door. But when he does make it into his room, there's no one there.

Alfred slams his hand against the doorframe, totally pissed.

"Fucking…. Fuck!" he shouts and storms back to his living room.

He picks up the notebook and writes down everything that has just happened. As he does he can feel the hair on his arm stand on end. He doesn't deny feeling as if there is something watching him, but whether or not it's all of those who he's already seen or those he has yet to see (or even the cause of all of their misery) he doesn't allow himself to recognize. It'll throw him off, and right now he can't have that.

When he finishes writing, he brings the notebook with him as well as the little wooden dolls that started all this over to his often neglected desk and sits in front of his own computer.

He needs to do a little more research of his own.

**xxx**

-i've actually had this completed for months but i lost the notebook it was written in for months

-soo...


	4. Chapter 4

xxx  
4  
xxx

Alfred ends up falling asleep at the computer. He wakes up with a groan and a crick in his neck.

"Never doing that again," he says and rubs at the spot before wiping at his mouth.

He stands up and stretches out. It takes a while before all that's been happening to him comes rushing back. He's completely awake now, and he turns around sharply as if expecting another apparition to come at him.

There's no one there.

Alfred is a little relieved and a little disappointed. Though at the same time he's anxious. The next one will have to appear. He's pretty sure it's the not knowing when that will happen frightens him the most. He literally has no say in that though, and as it is he may as well shower and wait for his next clue. Which in itself turns out to be an ordeal. The last thing he needs is to be naked when that surprise hits.

He can do without that. Thanks very much.

Nothing happens though. In fact Alfred goes on with his day without interruptions.

If circumstances had been different it wouldn't have given him such an uneasy feeling. He even calls about Matthew about it.

"Do you want me to come over?" he asks.

"If you want," Alfred tells him. "I dunno… This is weird, like, why would I even want a ghost in my apartment?"

"Careful this is the part where the main character becomes obsessed and becomes more vulnerable."

"That's way too 90's. Get with the millennium."

"Really? You sound like every 90's lead in a teen movie. Now who needs to get with the millennium?"

"You're growing up to be a real smart ass."

"You took the position of dumbass."

"Really, Sixteen Candles? Really?"

"I didn't actually make the reference, you're assuming."

"You're such a dick."

"And you're an idiot. Look, I got about three more essays to power through, I'll call you when I'm done to let know I'm coming over."

"Seriously though, Matt, tell them all to write their own paper."

"And stop reeling in this cash to make min wage like you?"

"That hurts, bro."

"Truth always does."

"Whatever, ass. I'll talk to you later then."

"Later."

When the conversation is over, Alfred has no idea what to do with himself. The internet was not that helpful. He did learn a little bit more of those missing, though not much.

Raivis Galante had been mentioned once in a local newspaper for winning a chess tournament. Eduard Von Bock made national news and even a headline in his time for his technological prowess. As for Elizabeth and Gilbert… there wasn't much of anything. They were only a couple of teens who had gone missing. All in all, Alfred finds himself at a dead end and has no idea what to do about it. He's forced to play the waiting game.

At any other time on his day off, Alfred would have jumped at the idea of going out and finding entertainment in the outside world. Ironically with the threat of being haunted he wants to stay inside. He spends his time stuck in his apartment and passes it by deciding to catch up his sketchbooks. Which he guesses isn't a bad thing. It's been too long since he's had a charcoal pencil in his hand.

At first he sketches random scenes from a long planned out comic book he's had in mind since middle school. His focus starts to falter though and soon his characters begin to look a lot like the missing people's ghosts that keep showing up in his apartment. That soon starts to feel a bit too depressing. These were real people after all and who knows what really happened to them….

Alfred isn't even really sure if he and Matthew could figure it out.

That thought is certainly frustrating. It even gets him to drop his book and pencil a little too roughly on the coffee table and move on to something else. From then on he goes on about his day as normally as possible.

Nothing happens for hours, not until Alfred makes for the kitchen figuring that he should make something real for dinner and standing there is a man. He takes Alfred by surprise, there had been nothing to announce his presence. No chilling atmosphere, no impending sense of something being there with him. Yet here he is, shorter than Alfred, wearing almost the same get up as Gilbert before him – button down shirt, slacks, suspenders – but even then he seems like he comes from an era older.

He stares up at Alfred with large green eyes, strands of his brown hair pulled back falling in front of his face. There's something in them that has Alfred step back.

"Aš kovojo kare ir kokie buvo mano pražūtis ?" he says in a soft tone. "Kvailas išvykstate dovana, kad aš net ne planuoju laikyti , kai ateina į šį damn šalyje."

He steps forward. Alfred, again, steps back.

"Turėčiau liko namuose."

His voice grows sharper the closer he moves to Alfred and for good reasons he flees the kitchen and back into the living room where there is yet another man waiting for him there. He's a little shorter than the other, with blond hair falling below his ears. His clothing is foreign, a cotton shirt with embroidery around the collar and brown pants. He's casually lounging on Alfred's sofa, going through his sketches.

"Czy to najlepsze, co możesz zrobić?" He doesn't look up at Alfred when he speaks, but there's a semi-teasing tone to it that makes Alfred bristle even if he doesn't know what's being said. "Obawiam się , aby zobaczyć , jak będzie mi przedstawić . Lepiej nie każ mi brzydkie. Będziesz tego żałować ."

Alfred buries his face in his hands. He has no idea what to make of this, this was hard enough when they were all speaking English now he has to deal with…. _this?!_

"What is going on?!" he groans into his palms.

When he looks up they're gone. His sketches are back where they had been before he left. When he goes back into the kitchen, it's empty just as it was before he walked in. Like with every other specter that had appear before them, there's no evidence to them ever being there and for some reason Alfred just cannot handle it. He grabs a jacket and walks out his door.

Twenty minutes later, he's sitting once more in Matthew's living room.

"So what language were they speaking?"

He looks to his twin brother and he sets a mug of something warm and steaming in front of Alfred on the coffee table.

"I don't know," he says. "It's not like I can really tell the difference. I mean for fucks sake, Matt, I thought French and Spanish were the same thing."

"Well, yeah that is true…. I don't think the library will have anything on these two though. You think they're immigrants?"

"What?"

"You know, maybe they came from another country back when, y'know, people didn't whine about it like complete racists."

"I'm pretty sure there were some who still did, but I get what you mean. To answer that question, I have no damn idea. I barely understood what was happening before, this is just a random plot twist now."

"Think about it from a horror movie point of view though, it makes a little more sense. Ancient evil finding way to the new world, terrorizes all."

"I guess…. But at the same time, Mattie, it's like… what do we do now? Frankly, I'm a little freaked out."

"Oh, now you're freaked out."

"I mean, I always have been, but now it just seems… scarier? Maybe I should have just gotten rid of them when I had the chance."

Both brothers sit in silence and share the same thought. Neither one of them, in any way, is able to handle this situation. It is definitely something bigger than they could have chewed.

"Wanna stay the night?" Matthew asks.

"Where are your roommates?" Alfred asks in return.

"Tim's on some kind of intern retreat and Bella's back home for the week because I guess their mom isn't doing too well? Not too sure, she kind of barged in on my shower to tell me she was leaving and I was too busy trying to cover my junk to really pay attention."

"I still think it's weird your guys' curtain is that see-through."

"It was more economical. Whatever though, come help me pull the sheets down outta the closet, we'll set the couch up for you."

Alfred follows him up from the sofa with a small grunt just because it's expected and soon they're both turning in for the night. When morning comes Matthew is leaving for class and Alfred has to head back to his apartment for his work clothes. He asks Matthew if it would be alright for him to stay the night again, and of course it is, so they make plans for a pizza dinner before they both go on their separate ways.

Alfred tip toes up to his apartment, turns the door knob slowly and peaks in cautiously. The coast is clear, he springs in and makes for his bedroom without hesitation. Really, all he wants to do is get dressed, get out, and go to work. He'll figure out a way to get rid of the dolls with Matthew later.

While getting dressed though, he starts to get too comfortable in his home again. He's not paying too much attention and it feels like such a regular day that when he leaves his bedroom he swears his heart stops when he hears it.

Crying.

Someone is crying.

There's nowhere to run. It's either he barricades himself in his bedroom or he confronts whatever ghost is after him next to get out of the apartment. He gulps. There really is only one choice, there just… he has to see this through. He just does.

Alfred opens the door to his bedroom. He steps out and walks the small trek of his hallways and comes to stand in his living room. She's there.

Like the strange blond man before her, her clothing is old and definitely not American. She wears a long dark blue skirt with a red sash tied around her waist. Her blouse is white with more extravagant embroidery around her neckline. Her hair is blond as well, and wrapped around her head in a thick braid. She sits on the floor, in front of the dolls still laid out on the table and takes up the one that looks like herself.

"Я тільки хотів, щоб будинок," she says and another tear falls down her cheek. She sniffles and look to Alfred. "Я тільки хотів, щоб мій чоловік щасливий. Я тільки хотів , щоб почати збір іграшок для моєї дитини ."

She presses her free hand against her belly and sobs once more.

"Моя дитина , мій бідний маленька дитина. Де ти був? Що стало з вас. Вибачте. Вибачте..."

She doesn't even pay attention to Alfred. Not as she says anything that she does, not as she seems to collapse in herself. Her grief becomes tangible – stifling, and Alfred cannot handle it. It leaves him a little ashamed to do, but he leaves and shuts the door behind him quietly.

He doesn't go back home again that night.

"There was something different about her," he tells Matthew that night. "I mean, the others were sad, y'know. Three teens, a tech superstar, whatever the other two were and wherever they were from… But this woman… I don't know."

"You think the other one'll be like that too?" Matthew asks him. "There's another woman before the big doll, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I dunno though. Really, what I wanna do now is call it quits."

Matthew hums and nods his head but says nothing as the two of them sink further back into the sofa. The television is on, but neither one is really watching what's happening on the screen.

"You gonna stay the night again?" asks Matthew.

"Yeah."

"You and the couch gonna get married after all this?"

"This couch has seen more action in the past week than you have your whole life."

"Gross. And sad."

"Mostly sad."

"Fuck off."

He leaves Alfred to make up his own bed after that. It's not that big of a deal, like Matthew's implied he's pretty much spent enough time at his brother's place to be comfortable enough in making up his own bed. He wonders for a brief moment if that somehow says something about how he really feels about all of this. Or really what it just says about him. Scared out of his mind but still willing to keep with the mystery? What kind of person would do that…?

All of this remains on his mind until he falls asleep. After that, he doesn't dream.

There's something about the last ghost that really gets at Alfred. He can't put his finger on it exactly, but he knows that she's shaken him up more than anything. So much that he doesn't want to go back to his apartment either. He ends up borrowing some of Matthew's clothes to get him through the next few days that he stays with him, using his machine to keep his work clothes clean and neat. He tells Matthew that it's all part of a new hypothesis.

"Maybe they can come around when no one else is around," he says. "If we let it go for a while, maybe the rest of them will pass through and whatever it is will just… go away?"

Matthew is not impressed.

"That's the weakest shit you have ever said, and you've said some pretty wild bullshit over the years."

Alfred drops his head on the table. "I don't know what to do. I think there's only two left? And I should probably wanna just get it over with…. but what if it's not that simple? What if we see the next too and it doesn't stop? I mean, we don't even know what it's happening now, what's the worst possible scenario?"

"We end up becoming dolls?"

"That's not funny, Matt, okay, that's really fucking scary."

"But not impossible." Matthew sighs and shifts in his seat across from his brother. "Everyone missing has a doll made after them. The bigger the doll is, the further back in time they're from. What was what that one said? Y'remember? Gilbert?"

"I don't really remember," Alfred confesses. "Not all of it anyway. Just something about… Someone picking and choosing? I don't know what it was that happened to him after that, it was like something dragged him away. Something didn't want him to keep talking."

Matthew sighs again.

Neither brother knows what to do from there. Matthew only tells Alfred that he's better off staying with him until they can really figure something about. It should be fine, after all, both of his roommates will still be gone for some time, Alfred won't be a bother to anyone.

And the arrangement works for some time. They begin to get into a domestic routine of living together again and it's only a small niggling at the back of their minds that reminds them that this is all temporary. Still, Alfred grows so comfortable with the way things are that he almost forgets the reason he's living with Matthew at the moment. In between the movie marathons and having meals together, he's only semi-aware of the reason he's avoiding his apartment. A return becomes inevitable though; his work pants end up with a hole in them that can no longer be mended and he needs to grab his extra pair that are still tucked away in a plastic bag on his dresser.

He doesn't tell Matthew, who is at one of his night classes anyway, that he's going back home after work. It's growing late into the night by the time he's off and it's a little unfamiliar as he moves his bike through the same roads he's taken home before. He doesn't bother to bring the bike up, doesn't bother to lock it, he's only here for a quick in and out mission.

He enters his apartment.

It's dark, but that's all. There's no change in temperature. Nothing has been moved. Nothing stirring. If anything is different, it's probably the dust that he knows must be on all of his stuff from not being around.

Alfred shivers. Something cold makes its way up his back and has him move. There's something omniscient about the scene he's walked into, but there isn't any immediate danger. At least none that he can see. Still….

Alfred rushes through the living room and into his bedroom. He grabs what he needs and even a few other things that catch his eye and shoves it all into his work bag, and he decides to leave. He walks out. He leaves the bedroom door open. He's back in the living room.

Another girl.

Just standing.

Her back is too him. He's only able to see the length of her hair – a blonde so pale that it seems white to him – and the backs of the black boots that peek out from underneath her long skirts. The emotions that radiate from her are tangible as they were with the woman before here, but where she had been all sadness and melancholy, the one in front of him now feels…. dangerous.

His fight or flight instinct screams at him to run away, but he just can't seem to move his legs.

"Я стварыў яго."

Her voice is low and hushed. Alfred doesn't understand what she says, but her words are biting. He gulps.

"Я прывёў яго да жыцця ."

She starts to turn towards him. Her head stays bowed down low. Her hair covers her face and she only stops when facing Alfred completely. Everything is still so calm and collected that when she starts screeching, Alfred falls back.

"Я павінен быць толькі адзін , ён хоча , і цяпер ён абраў цябе таксама! Я не магу прыняць гэта!"

She throws her head back. Her long hair flies away from her face, showing off the cold stare of her eyes and the fierce sneer tug of her mouth as she continues to spit words at him.

"Вы не заслугоўваеце яго! Ніхто з вас не заслугоўваюць яго!"

Her words are cut off with an ungodly shriek she lets out and starts to charge at Alfred. He finally finds himself prompted by fear and a shock of adrenaline is all he needs to finally run for his door and fling it open to throw himself out. He doesn't close it behind him, doesn't stop until he's down the steps and a good ways away before he finally looks back towards his door and sees the door still wide open. He watches it until he sees it slam shut on its own. He doesn't know if the shriek that follows is in his imagination or not, but he doesn't hesitate after that to get back to Matthew.

Matthew, when he hears all of this, shivers on his own when Alfred finally finishes his tale.

"Alfred," he says. "Alfred, what the fuck? What the fuck did you do?"

"The hell…?" Alfred asks with surprise in his voice. "I went for pants, I didn't ask to be attacked like that? What the shit, Matt. You suck, y'know that?"

"That's not what I mean, ya asshole. I mean, what the fuck did you even buy those damn dolls for?"

Alfred opens his mouth, but suddenly remembering that he had bought them as a gift for the mother originally doesn't sound like a smart thing to say. He shuts his mouth with a hard click of his teeth.

If Matthew picks up on how uncomfortable he's suddenly is he doesn't mention it.

"Whatever," he mutters. "I'm gonna make something to eat, you want anything?"

"Yeah," Alfred says. "Whatever you're making is fine. I'm just gonna shower."

"Oh, yeah, no that's cool. I'll do all the cooking. Ya know, like I have been. For the past couple days."

Alfred doesn't even bother to respond. He's learned better by now than to have it out with Matthew when he's gotten sarcastic. He goes off to shower instead.

It ends up being a quick one, and by the time he's out the scent of whatever it is Matthew's whipped up comes in through the crack of the bathroom door Alfred let open to let the steam out. He's just about done drying off his hair when he hears Matthew call out to him. He can't make out what he says though so he ends up sticking his head out of the door and shouts out for him to repeat himself.

"I said," Matthew shouts back just as loud, "did you bring those dolls with you?!"

It takes a moment for him to really hear what his brother has told him. If only because it makes absolutely no sense, why the hell would he even…?

"No! Why the hell would I?!"

"Well, they're right here! Right here in front of me!"

"…What?!"

"Just get the fuck out here cos they're honestly starting to-!"

A glass shatters. Alfred rips the door open the whole way and is running out of the bathroom. Matthew isn't in the living room and there isn't any more noise to say where else he could be. He ducks into the kitchen where there's something bubbling softly over the unlit stove, but no sign of his brother. Alfred comes out on the other side, into the dining room where maybe he had been to grab some of the silverware that's kept in there.

The first thing he sees is the circle of dolls on the table. Positioned just as it had been on his own coffee table. The second…. The second is a little more terrifying.

Just off to the side, an imposing figure taller than Alfred, dressed in a long coat and trailing scarf, is standing with his back to Alfred and inspecting something between his fingers.

Alfred is frozen in place. The only sound he's managed to make is a shuddering gasp as the person finally turns to face him, and it's as if he's held in place by nothing more than a cold gaze that stares him down. This…_ man_…. He is as pale the white of his hair. His eyes a glowing violet that take him in entirely, sweeps them up and down his body, and raises his eyebrows into a surprised expression.

"О нет…. Я взял неправильный брата."

His voice is like listening to ice break. It seeps into Alfred's ears and chills his veins until there's nothing but the freezing sensation of his blood going cold and taking away all of his warmth.

He places down what he had been holding in his hand down on the table with the other dolls and Alfred takes a moment to dart his eyes at it. It's another doll, same shape, a little smaller than the doll of Raivis Galante with its hair painted a familiar shade of blond. Alfred's eyes widen and dart back at the man who is now approaching him. He can feel each step as it's being taken.

"Не важно," he says and his tone is now sweet. "Я взял два раньше. Это не будет проблемой в настоящее время."

He comes to stand in front of Alfred. He brings his hands down on his shoulder and if Alfred thought he had felt the cold before, he has felt nothing until now. His eyes remained fix of the other's face – who seems to be growing more and more amused with the way Alfred cowers before him. And Alfred…. Alfred doesn't know what is happening. He doesn't realize that his cowering at the over looming figure over him is growing quite literal.

The man before him isn't just tall.

Alfred is shrinking.

He opens his mouth to scream when he feels his limbs freeze up. Nothing comes out thought. He isn't even able to move his lips. His vision begins to tunnel. White blurs at the edges of his eyes until there's nothing but the focus of violet irises boring down into his own and suddenly there's nothing at all. He doesn't know when his hearing goes. He doesn't know when breathing becomes unnecessary. He doesn't know when– He doesn'tknowdoesn'tknowdoesn't know–

knowknowknowknowknowknowknowknow–

All he knows now is the dark, the stillness, his name, his brother, his endless cycle of memories that serve as the only line of his former life, and what is the only thing he can do now.

Wait.

All he can do now is wait.

xxx

-i apologize for the google translate


	5. Chapter 5

xxx  
Epilogue  
xxx

"Take that off your head, you're gonna get lice."

"If I didn't complain about the coat you slipped on, you cannot complain about this hat."

"The coat wasn't going to give me head lice."

"No, but it could have given you body lice."

"If you haven't already I don't think I have to worry about that."

"Arthur! You wound me!"

A quick hand swipes at the hat sitting on top of blond hair that's been pulled into a low ponytail. Furrowed brows over piercing green eyes stare down amused blue ones until they roll and the hat is put back on its display.

"Sometimes I wish I could," says Arthur and leaves the hat section. "Francis, you said you needed help picking out china for the house and that's why I'm here. Not to keep a check on your hygiene."

"With the way that coat looked I don't think you'd be the right person for that," Francis mutters to himself while still admiring the worn out looking top hat.

"What was that?!"

"Nothing, my love, nothing at all."

Francis leaves the hats as well and chases after his new husband. It might have been weird to others – that the pair are choosing their household china and everyday dishes from a place like this antique store, but there's just something sentimental about hand-me-down dinnerware. Someone had loved those dishes, they had made a house a home, and that's what he wants.

Arthur tends to scoff at his reasoning, but Francis knows that he feel just the same way. Punk façade aside.

The two men trek their way back and forth through the store with the small man running the register calling out to them to let him know if they need any help. Eventually they do find where all the dishes are kept and take their time in inspecting the four sets that are there. When they do choose one, each man takes half and make their way back to the front counter. While placing them down, something catches Francis' eye.

"Well look at those adorable little figures," he says and taps at the glass case they're in.

"They're nesting dolls" the man at the register tells him. "You know, the ones that are put inside one of the other."

"There's an awful lot of them," Arthur comments. He doesn't have a real interest in them, but he does spare a long enough glance to sense some kind of oddity about the set.

"We think they might have been someone making them for friends or something," the man says. "Berwald – he's my friend that helps me run the store – says it's most likely because they all look different. Like they're not supposed to be a match set. He had actually bought them for his apartment, but Lukas – that's his fiancée – didn't like them. He didn't say why, but either way he sent them here and set them up in that little case."

"Wonder what happened that they ended up here," Francis says.

"Friend group probably broke up," Arthur guesses. "It's a college town after all."

"It does happen," the man agrees.

"We should take them," says Francis. "Give them a home. If that did happen sitting here would be a sad ending to that story."

"Where would we even put them?" Arthur asks them.

"They can sit in the kitchen nook above the sink! That would be perfect!"

"Well that's okay I guess. It is your kitchen."

"And so long as I live you will not step into it."

"Francis. I love you, but keep talking and I will cook for you."

"Perish the thought," Francis laughs. "Alright then, my good man, we'll take these dishes and the doll set too!"

"I never thought I would see them sold," the man tells them happily. "They've been sitting here for ten years at least."

"That long?" Arthur asks. He doesn't know what that gives him an odd feeling, but he can't ignore it for some reason.

"Well, I might have exaggerated a bit," he says while tallying up the price. "Nearly though, if I can remember right. I took over the shop back in 2002 after I graduated, B started helping out about a year or two later and he was the one to bring them in. I remember thinking that little one right there kinda looked like a kid I went to school with… but yeah almost ten years."

"Well not anymore," says Francis as the man bags their items. He watches with a small smile and throws an arm over Arthur's shoulders to pull him into a side hug. "We'll give 'em a good home."

xxx

-i like to think of this as a horror story that has no real rhyme or reason as to who the victims are.

-sometimes bad things happen. and they happen to people who have no real reason for them to happen to.

-will this strange supernatural version of ivan take arthur? or francis? or both? who knows. only he does, really.


End file.
